


no crib for a bed

by EtherealPrince



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Angst, First Meetings, Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Mpreg, References to Childbirth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-11 22:55:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29500269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EtherealPrince/pseuds/EtherealPrince
Summary: Charles is woken up in the early morning to someone in pain. What he finds down in the castle stables isn't anything he could've imagined.
Relationships: Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier
Comments: 7
Kudos: 64





	no crib for a bed

The moon is high in the sky and the kingdom of Westchester's homes are unlit when Charles discovers a man in the royal stables.

There was a faint cry that had been emanating from that direction since late last night that continued into the early morning. Not one of voice, rather, but one that only Charles could hear. Something in the mind.

The stranger, for at that point Charles did not know who it was, was (subconsciously or consciously) projecting their emotions far enough so that even he, up in a tower on the other side of the castle, could hear them in his mind. It was a call for help.

At first, Charles just thought he was half-asleep and dreaming. Then, he thought it was someone having a nightmare down the hall. It turned out to be neither as it continued while the moon slowly crawled across the dark velvet sky and the birds started to sing for the morning.

When it stopped, it left Charles feeling more concerned than he’d like. Now he knew it was real, and now he knew that someone had been in pain, and in distress, but all of a sudden they weren’t anymore.

Dressing by the first glinting ray of sun that peaked over the hills, Charles hoped that whoever the cry was coming from wasn’t dead.

And they weren’t.

In the last of the stalls at the end of the long stable hall, where all the hay was kept for the horses, Charles found a living, breathing man.

They looked at each other. Charles was curious, concerned, and the man was terrified.

“Please,” The man whispered, and Charles blinked. He entered the stall and quietly pulled the gate closed behind him. The man’s mind was a slowly-churning vortex of fear and pain.

“Who are you?” Charles asks him, slowly crouching down. The man was sitting in the corner of the stall, pillowed by a pile of hay. He had long limbs and broad shoulders but looked impossibly small.

The man swallows. He holds something wrapped in dark red cloth in his arms, and there is a heavy cloak covering his bottom half. “I seek asylum.” He speaks, though chapped lips and tight throat. “Asylum.”

Charles’ eyes widen. He has an urge to search through the man’s mind for the why, the how, the who, but he keeps his distance. 

The man seems to misinterpret his expression as fear, or perhaps distrust. He sits up further than he was, and Charles catches him wince. Under the cloak his legs shift, and Charles sees that his skin is covered in blood. His heart beats a quick rhythm in his chest.

“I am from Genosha.” The man says, this time with a voice firmer but no less scared. “The tyrant Shaw is killing my people. I had to escape.”

Charles was no stranger to the evils of the ruler of Genosha, who had battled against his kingdom of Westchester brutally and violently as part of the ongoing campaign between the two lands. It was a wonder this one man was able to leave without being caught.

“You’re in luck,” Charles reassures him, shifting to sit on the hay-covered floor in front of the man. “You’ve just come into the company of the king.”

This time it’s the man’s turn to be surprised. Charles hears his mind feel relief like a knife to the chest, and then just as quickly it’s covered up with caution and distrust. It is clear to see that this man has not seen much kindness.

“No.” The man insists, more to himself than Charles. He can’t believe his luck, good or bad, that much is obvious.

Charles leans back against the wall of the stall and nods. “I’m not in the habit of telling lies, my friend. King Charles Xavier Rex, at your service.”

The man shifts the bundle he’s holding closer to his chest. He wears a thin undershirt meant to be worn beneath a tunic and nothing else except the cloak that covers the rest of him. His eyes are old, hardened like steel. Endless questions stir in Charles’ mind.

“General Erik Lehnsherr.” is what the man says in response, and Charles stops short.

How did a warrior-general ever come to be an escapee hiding in his stables?

“We suffered many losses last winter.” The man, Erik, continues. “The tyrant wanted -”

He stops, swallows. Works his jaw. Charles waits.

“- He decreed that all omegas must be bred to make up for the casualties we had taken.”

Disgust flares up in Charles’ mind, and he feels that it does the same in Erik’s. Forced breeding was an ancient and backwards tradition that no civilized kingdom practiced anymore, but the tyrant was old, very old, and he liked his traditions.

“You said your people were dying?” 

Erik nods stiffly. There’s drying sweat on his brow and neck. “We hadn’t enough stockpiled for the spring and summer. Omegas and their babies were dying every day, and the alphas killed themselves trying to provide. The great hunger ravaged us almost completely.”

It was like a massacre, Charles thinks. A massacre that was brought on by a poor ruler who held no care in his heart for his subjects. Shaw was no king, no kind sovereign, no benevolent leader. “He sat and watched while you perished.” He breathes out, rubbing a hand over his mouth. Just because he had gone to war against Genosha didn’t mean he took any delight in it.

Just like Erik, Genosha’s people were citizens just like his own. They were imprisoned under a cruel despot. Charles never wanted innocents to suffer, no matter where they were from.

“Half of my warriors, dead in the grass.” Erik laments, a faraway look in his eyes. “The other half starved.” He shakes his head. “I couldn’t stay. I couldn’t allow myself to meet the same fate.”

“Why did you come here?” Charles asks him. “To your sworn enemy’s homeland?”

“I have not been loyal to Genosha for many years.” Erik sighs, looking down, down at what he held in his arms. “Here is safe.”

It certainly was, if Charles had anything to say about it. There was just one thing he was wondering above all else:

“You were a general. One of the tyrant’s confidants. What could he have possibly done to you?”

Erik turns tired eyes up to Charles again, and hesitates. “Shaw did not extend any compassion to his generals. Not to those who were omegas. Not to me.”

Charles’ mouth falls open in shock, and as he covered it with his hands his distraught mind caught the true meaning of Erik’s words in his thoughts without his permission.

“He bred you himself.”

Erik only stares, jaw set, brow tense. He doesn’t deny it.

“But that means -” Charles stops, and then looks, _really_ looks, and watches Erik’s hands twitch around the cargo he held. Precious cargo.

Off to the side, next to him, there sat what Charles could assume to be his meagre belongings. A bag, a sword in its sheath, a tunic, pair of trousers, boots, belt, hood. 

The blood on the hay. On Erik’s skin. His sickly pallor and the sweat on his face. The crying from last night, consistent, constant, until it suddenly stopped.

The reality of what had happened hits like a blow to the head, and Charles is lost for words for a long, long minute.

“You -” He weakly points at the bundle in Erik’s arms. “Is that -?”

Erik moves the fabric away from what he held and sure enough, just like Charles suspected, it was a baby. A newborn.

Charles wilts. “Oh, god.”

Erik fixes him with a weak stare and a wan smile. “Her name is Anya.”

Never before had Charles encountered something this heart-rending. As the pieces fell into place in his mind, all he could feel for Erik was sorrow. He rakes a hand through his hair, tugging at it. 

“When did you have her?”

“Mere hours ago.” Erik answers him. It explains everything, but it’s not the answer Charles wanted.

“Here, in the stables?”

“Yes. I couldn’t continue on to the castle proper.”

Charles is aghast. “You - traveled from Genosha to Westchester while in labor?”

“It only started yesterday. On foot the pains increase quicker.”

“Don’t tell me you walked here…”

“No. My horse dropped two days into my journey and I walked the rest of the way.”

All Charles can do is look at Erik in horror, in awe, in distress, in respect. Never had he met a man stronger than this. His mouth opens and closes, but he can’t find any more words.

Instead, he allows himself to take just the slightest peek into Erik’s mind, to try and understand some of it, any of it. Erik tenses, but lets him in - apparently he had experience with mind-walkers.

_Coaxing his horse back to standing and pleading it to go on just a little farther, they were almost there._

_Walking through grass and gravel and watching Westchester’s horizon grow closer while labor pains gripped his insides like a fist around a throat._

_Staggering into the stables on the edges of the castle grounds, biting down cries of pain with every step, clutching at his belly with one hand while looking for a place to labor in privacy._

_Clapping a hand over his mouth to silence himself while pushing, all too aware of how easily the horses could be spooked and wake up the entire castle._

_Gingerly picking up the bloody newborn from between his legs and swaddling her in the red blanket, the only one he had packed because he expected to give birth on the road and needed something to wrap her in to keep the cold off._

_Becoming alert to the presence of someone else and suddenly being terrified of capture, imprisonment, torture, he shouldn’t have come here -_

Charles pulls out of Erik’s mind, eyes closed. He wipes moisture away from under his eyes.

“You made the right decision to come here.” He murmurs. “You’ll be safe. I promise you.”

Erik is looking at him disbelievingly, but Charles wants nothing more than to prove to him that his word was sound. He shifts closer to him on the floor of the stall, still keeping himself low, unthreatening. 

“Erik.” Charles says quietly. “Trust me. I know there have been few men in your life who kept their word, but please believe me - I am one of them. You and Anya are welcome here.”

It is so hard for Erik to place his trust in Charles, he can tell. He has gone his life being beaten and hurt and betrayed, and even when he comes to a place he believes can keep himself and his daughter safe he is wary in accepting the help he is offered. He fears.

“You talk to me like we have met before now.” Erik observes. His mind is slowly starting to calm down, Charles realizes, the tension is leaving his body. “What do you know about me?”

Charles smiles. From looking through Erik’s memories he was able to glean everything he needed to know about the man: namely, that he was someone worth knowing. Someone beautiful. “Everything.”

Erik looks from him, to Anya, to his belongings at his right. Charles can almost see him working through his options in his head. He fears so much. He’s second-guessing himself. He wants to trust Charles, but isn’t letting himself.

Charles holds out his hand, palm up. If it took weeks, months, _years_ for Charles to gain Erik’s trust, then so be it - he was willing to wait.

“Let me find you a set of proper quarters.” Charles begs him earnestly. “I can’t have you staying out here with the horses, you’ll catch your death.”

Erik wavers, then lets go of Anya with one shaking hand to take Charles’. His palm is broad, calloused, and his fingers long. He’s warm, despite the chill to the early morning air. Charles meets his gaze and finds tentative hope there.

“Thank you,” Erik breathes. Charles feels his heart clench at the audible relief in his voice. “Thank you.”

He squeezes Erik’s hand. “You won't be hurt. Not ever again.” He promises him. Erik squeezes his hand back. 

The birds call for the welcoming of a new day as the sun climbs into the sky.

**Author's Note:**

> this oneshot doesn't take place in the same universe as my other fantasy a/b/o cherik fic, i just like writing this stuff.
> 
> please comment! <3 makes my day every time.


End file.
